


1 January 1984

by duva, fictionalcandie



Series: Sirius Is A Totally Helpful Advice Columnist 'verse [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-08
Updated: 2008-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-16 01:29:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duva/pseuds/duva, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalcandie/pseuds/fictionalcandie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A happy New Year. In exotic Milwaukee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1 January 1984

The room is a mess. Their clothes from earlier in the evening are still scattered in a sloppy trail from the door to the bed, and there are various empty takeaway containers and random tourist paraphernalia scattered about everywhere. Fortunately for James and Sirius, they've been raiding the minibar, and do not care.

Sprawled, clothes-less, across the foot of the bed, Sirius is sipping champagne from a clear glass flute, and regarding James intently. A half-full champagne bottle is leaning against the side of his chest.

"You know, I'm almost allowed to be dressed again," declares an equally bare James, desultorily. One of his arms is curled behind his head. He too has a glass of champagne, which is almost empty.

"Why would you want to be?" Sirius mutters, lazily appreciating his friend's nakedness.

James arches an eyebrow at him. "Well, lying around like this is a bit awkward, isn't it?"

"Not for me," counters Sirius.

"We can't all be exhibitionists, though," James shoots right back.

Sirius laughs. A few moments later, he asks, "You know what I think?"

"Only rarely." James grins, leaning forward to snatch away the bottle of champagne. Refilling his own glass, he asks, "What do you think?"

Sirius props one elbow on his knee and rests his chin on his hand. With the other hand, the one holding his precious bubbly, he gestures vaguely at nothing, his gray eyes heavy on the other man. "I think you should always be naked."

James just looks at him.

"Especially when you're drinking," Sirius adds decisively, his eyes on James's arms as he lifts his glass.

"You mean especially when _you're_ drinking," corrects James, with a shake of his head that can't quite hide his smirk.

"I _also_ think you should always be around me when you're drunk," Sirius adds, as if he has not heard James. He nods decisively. "Good things happen when you're drunk."

"When I'm drunk?" James repeats a little sceptically. "Or just when I'm drunk with you?"

Sirius rolls his eyes and grabs the champagne to refill his glass. "You're just fishing now, aren't you?"

"Fishing for what?"

"Compliments?" suggests Sirius, frowning slightly. "I don't know."

James laughs a little, especially when he sees Sirius looking thoughtfully over at the minibar. "I don't, either. And don't even think about getting anything else to drink."

When Sirius doesn't see a need to reply to this, James lays back on the bed and stares at the ceiling, sipping at his champagne. After a few moments, he begins humming quietly.

"C'mere," Sirius blurts, after a minute or two of listening to him, bounding to his feet. He reaches over and tugs on James's hands, trying to pull him to his feet, placing both champagne glasses on the nightstand.

Not moving, James stares at him. "Why?"

"I want to dance," replies Sirius, impatiently. He tugs again.

James continues to resist. "Don't you think that'd be a bit…?"

Sirius is grinning, bright-eyed, and looking slightly more than tipsy. "A bit what?"

"Weird."

"Why should it?"

"Um, we're both men?" suggests James, still eyeing Sirius dubiously.

"That didn't stop us when we were celebrating finishing Hogwarts," Sirius counters reasonably. He tugs a third time.

"We were drunk!" Despite this protest, James allows himself to be pulled to his feet.

Sirius grins and wraps one arm around James's waist. "Just like we are now," he counters easily.

James continues to look a bit uncomfortable. "I hesitate to point out the obvious, but we're both rather… naked, Sirius."

"Of course we are. I figured it would be a good excuse to let you get your hands all over me," says Sirius innocently. James rolls his eyes, and with a sheepish grin, Sirius adds, "Or maybe I just want to touch _you_."

Laughing quietly, James falls back onto the bed and pulling Sirius down on top of him. "You're impossible, did you know that?" he mutters, against Sirius's lips.

"You're only saying that because you know I'm right," counters Sirius, laughing himself.

"Shut up," commands James, shifting so that their hips are aligned, and he can wrap his legs around Sirius.

Sirius, obediently, shuts up, engaging his mouth in a thorough exploration of James's. This pleasant activity adequately occupies their rather alcohol-sprinkled brains for several minutes, with Sirius lying comfortably nestled in the warmth of James's embrace.

After a while though, it becomes rather a little too much stimulation for one of them. Disengaging his mouth, Sirius pulls away and props himself on his arms, his colour high and his breathing heavy. A moment later, he blurts, "Fuck, I had some— I'd bought some— We could have—"

"I know," mumbles James, as his hand trails up and down Sirius's back, nails scraping slightly. Rather impressively, he seems to know exactly what the other man is talking about.

"I didn't pack it," Sirius confesses, looking like he wants to kick himself for the oversight.

"No, but I did."

Sirius stares down at him, obviously rather surprised. Arms still wrapped around him, James blushes slightly, but refuses to look away. Sirius's mouth opens, but he seems to have no idea what to say, until James starts to smile a little smugly, and then—

"Bloody hell, aren't you a right tart, mate?"

James would start blushing even more, except he's not allowed the chance; growling, Sirius lowers himself back down and starts kissing him furiously. James gives a low moan. Sirius wrenches away again, but only long enough to demand, "Where is it, then?"

It's several moments before James can respond.

When Sirius finally does let him have room to speak, which is accomplished with a slight growl, James gasps quickly, and mutters, "My bag."

He would have expected Sirius, in his impatience, to immediately go haring across the room in search of his goal, but instead his head descends again, his lips returning to James's, as if he simply can't get enough. His passion, for lack of a better word, seems to be stronger than his urgency — no matter how palpable a force _that_ is. It makes James a little dizzy, leaving him clutching the other man and kissing him back with matching intensity, determined to show the wildness of his desperation, too.

Eventually Sirius does pull away, however. "Don't go anywhere," he instructs quickly. Almost before the words have completely left his mouth, he is scrambling off the bed and toward James's bag.

James pushes up from the bed, climbing to his knees to watch Sirius rooting wildly through his bag. He does not seem overly concerned that all of his extremely neat packing is being disrupted.

"Aha!" exclaims Sirius triumphantly. A moment later he is back on the bed, kneeling next to James, a bottle of lube in his hand. "Here we go." He grins, while unsubtly unscrewing the lid. "I should really ask what possessed you to pack this, but I've got better things to concentrate on."

"Such as?" asks James, clearly attempting to sound coy but ending up merely turned on.

Sirius pauses, the lube open in his hand, his eyes roaming hungrily over James's body before shifting up to meet James's. "You, er, do know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

James just nods, apparently not feeling himself equal to actually _saying_ it. This is enough for Sirius.

"Good." The hand not holding the lube goes to the back of James's head, pulling him in for a swift, rather sloppy kiss. His hand moves, trailing down James's neck, and then his back, finally settling low on his hips.

James shivers, not saying anything.

Through a rather complicated, awkward, yet thoroughly straightforward series of slightly drunken maneuvers, Sirius has a lubed finger in James's arse, alternately pumping and flexing, and James is clinging to Sirius's shoulders.

James is making small, indecipherable noises, and has his eyes closed. There is an expression of deep concentration lining his face. Sirius catches the look on James's face, and his finger pauses a moment. "Bad?" he asks, a little anxiously.

"Odd," replies James, and he sounds almost curious. When the other man doesn't resume his previous movements, he frowns a little, and adds, "Good, odd, though."

"Oh."

Sirius resumes the motions of his fingers, eventually adding a second, and, when James doesn't protest, a third. After a moment, James mutters, "I think, though—"

Sirius stills again. "Yeah?"

James is blushing. "That, well, maybe you don't need to…"

"To what?"

"To…" James clears his throat. "Well, to do that anymore."

Sirius stares at him for a second. Then he is rather frantically pushing James down on his back, bunching the coverlet under his hips with a muttered "—and I'd better—" that is mostly lost in his heavy breathing.

"Are you sure this'll work?" questions James, a bit hesitantly, opening his eyes and looking up at Sirius, hovering above him. "I mean, like _this_? I always sorta figured—"

"It should," is Sirius's rather distracted reply, nevertheless spoken with a great deal of conviction. Then, nullifying all James's questions about positions, Sirius, wearing an expression of intent concentration, places himself at James's entrance. James stops talking.

Sirius's lips drag hot and wet up James's neck, pausing briefly to torment his ear, before moving purposefully along his jaw to devour his lips. He can feel the muscles in James's thighs tighten, against his own hips, and those talented, stupidly strong hands clench hard, putting little dents in the muscles of Sirius's broad shoulders. Sirius moans softly.

Abruptly, James tears his mouth away. " _Sirius_!"

"James—"

Then Sirius is pushing with his hips again, and James is making little drunken noises — things that are so breathy and sharp that it's almost as if he's confused about whether he's uncomfortable or simply eager. A breath or two later, when Sirius pauses a moment too long while buried as deep as he can get, and the question would seem to be answered; James arches his back, pressing his hips up as far as he can.

" _Move_ ," he hisses commandingly, eyes tightly closed, and when Sirius complies with his usual obedience, he tosses his head back and just _gasps_.

Sirius thrusts again, as James begins to babble something comprised of many _Yes, fuck, yes_ and _Sirius, oh, Sirius_ es. Sirius repeats the movement several more times in increasingly quick succession, then pauses, staring down at James, to catch his breath… or maybe to insure the memory is imprinted indelibly within his mind.

"Si, don't you _dare_ —"

"Shh," mutters Sirius, resuming.

Moving steadily now, thrusting his hips with ever-deteriorating tenderness, Sirius is staring down at James, a gleam in his eyes as if he is almost in awe of the effect he clearly has on his best friend.

"God— Fucking— Merlin," James gasps, writhing and grinding his hips up to meet Sirius's. "I can't— this is— _Fuck_ , Sirius, I'm gonna—"

Sirius grunts something in agreement.

Fingers digging deeper into the skin of Sirius's back, James lets out a low, keening half-moan as he climaxes, coming all over his own belly, and Sirius's. His muscles clench around Sirius, pulling him momentarily deeper. A moment later Sirius joins him, with a brief, hastily swallowed shout of "James!" in place of the half-moan. James's fingers clench against Sirius's back again.

Sirius slumps forward a little, supporting himself on shaking arms and breathing heavily. He tucks his face into the crook of James's neck.

"Good thing I don't have to sit a broom tomorrow," James mumbles a few minutes later. He sounds incredibly sated, and still rather breathless.

Sirius's response is an incoherent growl, followed by a small laugh.

James seems amused. "Good thing neither of us has to do _anything_ tomorrow, really." Then, as James yawns hugely, Sirius grins sleepily and reaches over to further rumple up his hair for him. This earns him a half-hearted dirty look, as well as a small, rather mushy smile.

"That was beyond excellent," Sirius declares, draping that helpful arm across the nearer one of James's shoulders. "Much better than a broomstick ride."

"Better than riding Mathilda Ermyntrude?"

Sirius pretends to consider, but only until he sees the look on James's face. Then he grins. "Don't worry, mate," wrapping his arms securely about the other's chest and snuggling closer, "I like you best. You're much better than any dumb machine."

"I like you best, too."

"Of course you do — you don't like Mathilda Ermyntrude, to begin with."

James cracks open one eye to peer exasperatedly at Sirius. "Why are you still talking, Si?"

Sirius grins sheepishly.

"That's what I thought," grumbles James, letting his eye close again. "Go to sleep."

**Author's Note:**

> This work can also be read [here on LiveJournal](http://garderob.livejournal.com/8258.html).


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